sitting on the bus, the dirty stinky bus, watching the old fraser graveyard wash out of view . . i notice out the window a young blond dreadlocked waving goodbye to whomever has stepped on the bus. As she walks away she come closer to me, i quickly appraise her outfit, funky denim, scuffed just right. Young and cool, where is she wandering, where has she come from? Quickly i focus my gaze back to inside of the bus to catch to whom she waved goodbye. Another dreddi, this time blackened knots , big and promiscous, announcing attention, announcing attitude and demeanor. Young too, I think maybe 24/25. I remeber back to that time that has drifted passed me, when I was still fresh with the idea that life held some deep secret that it was mine alone to uncover. Far away mountain tops, all night indian ragas where strange indian holy man attempted to uncover the secrets of my body. Surreal late night encounters, whispered tales, shared chillums,  wacky ideas. All of them , all of them accentuated , highlighted moments, that somehow were zoomed in  , blown out of porportion. Dirty backpacks and hitched rides somehow buying freedom. Thought it was forever.